That Night
by emlovesyouu
Summary: It wasn't until he was out in the hallway that he realised that the screams that had woken him were not coming from the girl in the room next door, but from the echoing memories in his head. Ron/Hermione one-shot.


**I'm back! So, after the response I got to my story Different (if you haven't yet read it, go and check it out) I got quite motivated to write more. And I know I should be updating Minutes Before Midnight, but I am currently stuck with that once. Once again, this is a Ron/Hermione one-shot, with a hint of Harry/Ginny, set in Deathly Hallows. Please review, it would mean the world to me...**

**Enjoy :)**

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It had been a truly terrifying night. It had shaken them all. But as much as it had scarred them all both physically and emotionally, and left them in near tears when they went to bed at night and the memories came flooding back, they had not spoken of it. Not to Bill and Fleur, not to Luna and Dean, not even to each other.

Bill and Fleur had been great, not pushing them to tell them what had happened. They had their suspicions. Who wouldn't, at the way they'd showed up; Dobby with a knife in his chest, a severely trembling Hermione and a puffy-eyed Ron.

After they'd slept for over a day, cherishing the feel of a proper bed beneath them after months of sleeping on camp beds, Harry had tried to bring up what'd happened. But with a 'don't even think about it' look from Ron, along with a shake of his head, Harry didn't press the topic any further.

Harry had always thought Ron and Hermione's relationship was uniquely different to any others he had seen. They acted differently in each other's presence and they didn't even notice it. Especially since they'd been on the run, spending every waking and sleeping moment together. Almost guaranteed, whenever Harry looked over at Ron, he was looking at Hermione; whether it be in conversation or peering at her over the top of his magazine.

A lot of the time, as happy as he was for his best friends, it hurt to see them together; the feeling of love between them almost overwhelming. It made him miss Ginny; the little moments he witnessed reminding him of the sweeter times he'd spent with Ginny before they'd left Hogwarts.

Sometimes, he just needed to leave the room.

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Ron seemed to understand her better now, more than he ever had before. He seemed to be able to sense was she was feeling down or when she was reliving the horrors of that night, and the times when she just needed to feel him close to her.

She loved that he knew she didn't want to talk about it, even though not once had she voiced that. It was like they had this invisible string connecting the two of them, and whenever they were in need, they could just give it a tug. It was somewhat like a sixth sense.

She knew he was worried about her; she was worried too. She heard him in the hallway outside her room sometimes, in the middle of the night. He'd stand right outside the door for ten-fifteen minutes, just standing there. He was so quiet that only his breathing gave him away. It was the same just after he'd say goodnight to her and she'd go to bed.

She hadn't cried, and that frightened her. She thought that after going through something so terrifying that she would have cried at least once. It was as though she was in a state of shock, and she was just dreading the day when she eventually snapped out of it.

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Everything had changed since that night. Before that night, they'd thought they'd done pretty well at staying hidden and protecting themselves. They'd been ignorant. They couldn't say that they were safe anymore. They'd been caught, and had only just escaped with their lives. Except for Dobby.

It was like someone had lit a fuse beneath them. At the sound of anything that was out of the ordinary, they jumped, looking around for any signs of danger. Especially Hermione. She had been so brave; that night and every moment since. She hadn't cried; not _really_ cried. Once or twice he'd seen a couple tears escape, which he'd wanted to reach across and wipe away, but didn't; knowing she'd be embarrassed at him having noticed.

He'd expected her to have nightmares, after everything she'd been through. He lay awake night after night, in the room down the hall from hers, waiting – expecting – for her screams to break the silence of the small cottage. Ron would wake up in the night thrashing, throw off his covers and run for the door. It wasn't until he was out in the hallway that he realised that the screams that had woken him were not coming from the girl in the room next door, but from the echoing memories in his head.

He wished that he could be even a fraction as brave as she was.

He'd always had a bit of a thing for her. He'd always been too much of an idiot to do anything about it; he knew that. Before that night her knew that he liked – no, loved – her. It had been uncomfortable to be away from her, and he'd yearned to be near her again. However, since that night, he couldn't part from her. It was almost unbearable when she wasn't in his sight. He felt like he needed to know where she was and to know that she was out of harm's way.

He could tell when she didn't want to talk about something because it was too difficult to face. Like whenever someone started to bring up what had happened that night, there was the briefest flash of fear in her eyes, and he immediately knew he needed to change the topic of conversation. It was instinctual.

He had a feeling that she felt the same.

He cherished the moments that they got to spend together alone, when she'd lean her head against his shoulders, seeking comfort. Or when she'd move her chair closer to his at the dinner table and grip onto his hand tightly, out of view of the others.

But it was the moments at night, just before they went to bed, when they would stand just outside her doorway. She'd wrap her arms securely around his middle and he'd press a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger a little longer than necessary. But most of all, the look of longing she gave him as she disentangled her arms from his waist and peered back at him as she closed the door to her and Luna's bedroom.

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They'd all been scarred differently throughout their journey. They were all hurt souls, and had all suffered fears and terrors, but they had never been so obvious; not until that night.

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**There you go. I decided to go for a different angle and show it from the three different perspectives, and I hope you liked it. If you did, please leave a review. I'd really appreciate it.**

**EM xXxXxxx**


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